


Lie Detector

by TheVineSpeaketh



Series: Love Actually Is All Around [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Lie Detectors, Love Confessions, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Prompt Fill, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVineSpeaketh/pseuds/TheVineSpeaketh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius gets arrested at a rally that goes awry. He returns with a lie detector.</p><p>Jehan decides now would be a good time to wriggle some unknown facts out of their leader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie Detector

**Author's Note:**

> So I kind of follow the exr blog (exr-cache) on tumblr and they were talking about a lie detector fic and this kind of just FELL out of my hands I swear to God.
> 
> ExR with a first kiss and a bit of angst. Ends up all fluffy. Sorry if anybody's OOC!

It wasn't fairly often that Les Amis found themselves willingly in touch with the police, or any particular faction of law enforcement. They were usually seen behind the bars of one of their establishments, waiting to make bail, or sometimes even having to stay a night, if only to be released (Combeferre was good at haggling with the law at this point, and Bahorel wasn't too bad either). Most of Les Amis were used to this relationship, having been arrested once or twice during their more excited rallies. The only member that hadn't spent much time in prison (any, actually, and the other Amis had made sure of that) was Marius, which is why, when he was arrested at one particular rally, everyone was especially concerned.

After the escapees had managed to rendezvous in a secure place (in this case Combeferre's apartment, since the first rendezvous point had been watched), they all sat down and decided what to do.

"We can't just leave Marius there," Courfeyrac said, perched on Combeferre's countertop as Joly bound his hand. A few of his knuckles were bleeding, and bandaids were not going to work for the extent of the damage. Combeferre was brewing some tea and making coffee, setting out mugs for everybody. His brow was set in a hard line, and he appeared to be in deep thought.

Enjolras was pacing, as was his wont when he was infuriated or thoughtful, and he didn't really look at anybody as he mumbled, "I know," and turned to pace back the way he came.

"Does anybody actually know where Bahorel and Bossuet are?" Joly murmured as he worked on Courfeyrac's hand.

Jehan, who sat next to Grantaire on the floor, both of them leaning against the wall, took the bottle from Grantaire's hand and took a small drink, grimacing and handing it back to him. "Bahorel called me," he replied. "He told me that Bossuet is with him and not to worry. I think he said something about helping out some unfortunate old woman who ran into trouble with the police. He might be sorting that out."

Grantaire snorted, drinking a little bit. "He's going to get himself into prison, stopping to help out old ladies."

Jehan frowned. "He said she had nothing to do with this, and I believe him."

"But is it worth going back for her when they may very well know he is directly involved?" Grantaire asked, turning to Jehan and poking him in the temple very gently. "Think."

Enjolras whirled, stalking back the way he came. "Stop drinking," he growled, never once breaking stride or eye contact with the ground.

He didn't need to look to see the look in Grantaire's eyes, or the bruise on his cheek, or the bloodied lip he was sporting. "I'm sorry, does my alcohol intake bother you? I thought we were worrying about Marius and Bahorel." He shuffled a bit, as if attempting to rise, before perhaps thinking better of it and sinking to a crouch again. "But no, please, I enjoy being the scapegoat when everything's going wrong. Please, tell me how my drinking in any way applies to this."

"You become insufferable when you drink."

He didn't need to look to see Grantaire's raised eyebrow, but a few heads shot his way. "Oh? I was unaware that this was only a state when I was drunk. Forgive the confusion, but you usually don't make much a distinction between when you're annoyed and your usual state of being."

"For God's sake," Combeferre said, turning from the coffee and tea and glaring around the room, "would you two please stop fighting for two seconds? We need to think about Marius."

It was at that moment that Combeferre's phone rang, and he shot to it, looking at the caller ID before picking it up, his expression pinched. Enjolras stopped pacing. It had to be Marius.

"Marius? Are you alright?" Combeferre asked, his voice level despite his expression. Marius's excitable tones were loud over the phone, but his words still remained unintelligible. As every second passed, though, Combeferre's expression grew more and more confused. "Yes, we're all at my apartment. We're fine." He waited a second, Marius obviously speaking. "No, I didn't... Yes, a few of us, but... Well, it's just Courfeyrac's hand and Grantaire got a bit bruised up... Enjolras didn't break it, he just sprained it... Marius, we're worried about you. Are you okay? Do you need me to...?" He stopped again, turning his back to the counter. His face suddenly pinched in complete confusion, and he stared at the floor, as if it had done something incredible. "What do you mean they let you go?" Enjolras could feel his brows furrowing as he watched Combeferre from across the counter. Combeferre surged forward, leaning toward the ground, his eyes wide. "They gave you a what? Marius, what did you do? No, don't answer that. I'm coming to get you. We all are... What do you mean you're almost here?"

As if timed by some cosmic sense of fate, there was a knock on the door a few seconds later, and suddenly everyone was on their feet and Marius was stumbling through the door, looking a little roughed up but beaming broadly, and there was something in his hands, something old and delicate but fascinating. He set it on the table before accepting hugs and claps on the back from everyone.

"How is this possible? How did you get out of prison so fast?" Courfeyrac asked, looking at Marius expectantly.

Marius didn't seem to mind Joly, who was poking and prodding him to check for injuries, and merely smiled at Courfeyrac. "I just talked to some of the policemen. They decided I wasn't too suspicious and I managed to convince them I had only been a bystander. They believed me and let me go." He grinned widely. "I even managed to leave with a souvenir. They said it was an older model, so they let me keep it.”

"Is it impossible for anybody to ever hate you, Pontmercy?" Grantaire asked, and Marius laughed a little. He glanced over Marius's shoulder, looking at the strange thing. "So, what is it they let you run off with?"

Marius, if at all possible, smiled even brighter and picked it up, turning to face Grantaire. Everyone leaned in a little to get a good look at it, except Enjolras, who already knew what that was. He'd been hooked up to one similar to it (albeit newer, if what Marius said they told him was true). "It's a lie detector," he replied, and Marius looked at him and nodded, confirming what he said.

"A lie detector?" Combeferre asked, curiosity getting the better of him. The worry was smoothed off of his face, and in its place was a youthful sort of adventurousness that Marius brought out in everyone. "Why would they let you run off with one of these?"

Marius shrugged, still holding it. His knuckles were a bit scuffed, but his hands held firm to the machine. He seemed more enthralled with it than affronted that he had suffered his first arrest. "I guess they thought I looked like a man who could use a lie detector."

"We need to give Marius more public relations jobs," Courfeyrac said with a laugh. "I imagine he'd be a better candidate for charming potential supporters than Enjolras here."

Enjolras sent Courfeyrac a look while scattered laughter littered the room, filled with both mirth and relief. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, let's face it, Apollo," Grantaire said, giving him a smile that split his lip again. "Your greatest asset is being able to frighten the needles off a spruce. You're not exactly the most personable of visages." Enjolras fixed him with a glare, and some of the mirth left his face, leaving only a sadness in his eyes and a blandness to his smile that he had to look away from.

"Anyway, I thought we could test this out," Marius said, successfully steering the conversation away from that particular avenue. Combeferre seemed to relax a bit where he stood, turning his attention to the machine again. "It might be fun, and it could be useful."

"Assuming it even works," Combeferre added, getting closer to look at it. "They said it was old, so maybe it's dead."

"Only one way to find out," Joly replied, and he took it gently from Marius's hands, setting it back on the counter. "I say we hook it up to somebody and throw the switch. Let's test each other for lies."

"Marius goes first," Jehan said, a grin on his face. "I have a few choice questions for him about how he actually got this thing."

Marius laughed, but good-naturedly allowed them to hook it up to him. He sat down, holding out his wrist and instructing them on how it worked, explaining that the guards had done it to each other out of boredom while watching over him.

"Seriously, Marius," Courfeyrac said, attaching the cuff to Marius's wrist securely. "It's impossible for anyone to hate you."

Marius simply grinned, and when everyone stepped back, he settled himself further into his chair, as if showing he was ready. Courfeyrac leaned forward and flicked the switch on it, and a little red light began glowing.

Immediately, Jehan asked a question. "Okay, so how did you really get this thing?"

Marius breathed for a moment before answering. "I was given the lie detector by the police officers of the station." Nothing happened.

"What happens when you lie?" Combeferre asked.

"This kind gives you a sort of jolt. It's just a small electrical shock." Nobody seemed to bat an eye at Enjolras's response, no matter what it implied.

"Would we be able to see it?" Grantaire asked.

"I assume the person would react," Joly replied. "Shocks are nothing to scoff at. Even though the damage isn't visible, it really does hurt."

Jehan nodded, then, after a moment of thought, his eyes lit up mischievously. "Do you have a crush?"

"Wow, Jehan," Courfeyrac said, a laugh following his exclamation. "You do not pull your punches, do you?"

"Hush," he replied, looking straight into Marius's eyes. "Do you have a crush on somebody?"

Marius stared into his eyes in return before saying, very firmly, "no." Instantly, he winced, his body jerking a tad. It was as if he'd touched a hot stovetop. The light on the lie detector blinked twice.

Jehan grinned victoriously. "Oh my God, he does," he replied, pulling away from Marius and standing upright. Marius, meanwhile, was wearing an expression between horrified and delighted, a strange mixture.

"No teasing," Grantaire said, holding onto his bottle again. "It's unnecessarily cruel."

"Is it requited?" Courfeyrac asked, almost ignoring Grantaire, and Marius looked at him, his eyes wide.

"I don't know," he said rather quickly, and nothing happened. Courfeyrac nodded, as if content, and looked to Jehan again, but it wasn't him who came up with the next question.

"Is it a woman?" Joly asked, and Marius's gaze swept over to him. He got a hazy grin on his face, then, as if he just emerged from a particularly pleasant daydream.

"Yes," he replied, and his smile didn't fade. The light remained steady on the lie detector.

Joly continued his track of inquiries. "Is she beautiful?"

"Of course she is!" Marius replied, and again, nothing happened.

"Does she know you?"

"We've only seen each other in passing, but I'll never forget her face."

"It's more fun if you lie, Marius," Grantaire said, and Marius laughed as he looked to him.

"If it's so much fun to lie, why don't you give it a try?"

Grantaire shrugged, smiling into the neck of his bottle. "I don't particularly fancy being put on the spot with no hope of escape. Call it a fatal flaw."

"I call it basic human functioning," Combeferre replied, his hands back to fixing up drinks for everyone, with one extra mug for Marius. "Nobody likes being caught in the truth, even if it isn't a big deal."

"Except maybe Enjolras," Courfeyrac joked, looking at their leader with a grin. "He always tells the truth. The truth is his modus operandi."

"So," Joly said, his tone lilting slightly as if he had a plan coming on, "in theory, if we put Enjolras on the spot, he won't tell a lie."

"It would be fun to press him for answers, though," Jehan said, and he, too, grinned at Enjolras. "What do you say, Enjolras? Want to go under the threat of electrical currents to prove your honesty?"

Normally, Enjolras didn't go for this sort of thing. He had been subjected to one of those lie detectors before, and it hadn't been a pleasant experience. But here, in Combeferre's home--Combeferre, who he knew would never allow Enjolras to come to severe harm if he could help it--Enjolras allowed himself a small smile. Yes, he could try this. "I don't see why not," he replied, gaining a few chuckles.

Marius began removing himself from the machine, and soon Enjolras was the one sitting at the counter, his wrist laying limp where the cuff wrapped around it snugly. He looked up expectantly at everyone, waiting for a question. The light was unblinking in the silence.

Finally, Combeferre spoke. "I'll start with something simple to warm him up to the idea. What color is your hair?"

Enjolras just barely stopped himself from snorting, but he humored Combeferre. "It's yellow." Grantaire suddenly snorted, and Enjolras’s gaze shot to him, instantly on the defensive. "What?" he hissed.

Grantaire waved his hand in a placating manner. "Nothing, nothing,” he replied, not looking at him. “Don’t listen to me. I’m drunk.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Jehan asked. “You’ve never actually told me, and I’m curious.”

“I haven’t?” Enjolras asked, his brow furrowing. “I could’ve sworn I had.” At Jehan’s insistent look, he continued. “It’s red.”

“Give him something harder,” Marius said jestingly. “If I get shocked, then so do you, Enjolras.”

“He’s not going to die from a few little jolts,” Joly agreed. “Let’s really try to wriggle some information out of him.”

After a moment of silence, Courfeyrac spoke. “Do you have any tattoos?”

Enjolras snorted, giving him a look. “Of course I do,” he said, and several eyebrows rose.

“Wait, you really do?” Jehan asked, incredulity written on his features. “What are they?”

“There is just one on my side,” Enjolras replied, and true to his word, the light on the machine remained steady. “It just says ‘Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.’”

“Of course it would,” Grantaire murmured, a small smile on his face. Enjolras did not look directly at him.

“I didn’t know you had ink!” Joly said, surprise and delight in his voice. “We may discover some hidden depths about you yet, Enjolras. This thing might actually come in handy.”

“You couldn’t get me to tell you everything with this,” Enjolras said, a hint of a challenge in his voice. “I’m not so easily swayed.”

“We’ll see about that,” Courfeyrac said, accepting his coffee from Combeferre with a nod of thanks and minding his injured hand.

Combeferre circulated around the room, handing out coffee and tea to designated persons, and the room sank into a content kind of thoughtfulness before Jehan’s head shot up and he spoke again, looking directly at Enjolras fiendishly. “Do you have a crush?” Jehan asked, and before Enjolras could do so much as change his expression, Joly let out a laugh, looking at Jehan.

“Oh my God, you and the crush question,” he said, his grin still splitting his features. “Is that seriously the thing you want to ask him about? We have him at our mercy for once, we could sit here emptying his brain of a multitude of things, and the first thing you ask about is whether or not he has a crush?”

“I’m a poet. I like romance. Is it so wrong for a part of me to be enamored with the thought of our fearless leader being in love with someone?”

“No, it’s not,” Courfeyrac said, nursing his coffee as if using the heat to quell the pain in his hands, “but we all know his heart has been stolen by Justice and Liberty. They are the only ones allowed to share in the comforts of his heart, and the warmth of his bed.”

“Don’t let him out of answering the question!” Marius pleaded, still smiling. “I had to endure it, he can too.”

“Wasn’t dreaming of it,” Courfeyrac said, and Enjolras turned to him, narrowing his eyes at him, but Courfeyrac was unperturbed by his glare. “So, Enjolras? Do you have a crush?”

Enjolras straightened his back where he sat, and looked defiantly into Courfeyrac’s eyes. Courfeyrac stared back over the rim of his mug as he drank. “No,” Enjolras replied, and his tone had a sense of finality to it. Then, he jolted, his hands curling into fists, and the light on the machine blinked.

Courfeyrac was instantly spitting coffee everywhere. “ **No** ,” Jehan said, mouth open completely wide. Joly, meanwhile, was scrambling to Courfeyrac’s aid, and Combeferre was taking the mug of coffee from his hands. “That’s **impossible**.”

“It is a **person** , right?” Courfeyrac asked through his coughing, letting Joly unwind the spoiled bandages on his hand. “Like, it isn’t Liberty or Justice like we said before, right?”

Enjolras couldn’t look at any of them, instead too busy staring at his feet. “No, it isn’t Liberty or Justice,” he spat in response, suddenly not as good-humored as he was before.

“ **Is** it a woman?” Marius asked, and Enjolras’s glare shifted over to him, but Marius seemed unperturbed by the severity of his gaze. “Or is it a man?”

Enjolras just fixed him with his gaze, as if attempting to get him to back down first, but Marius was unmoving. “You know we wouldn’t be bothered either way, Enjolras.”

Enjolras glared for a few moments longer before hanging his head, his fists clenching again. “Man,” he growled, and the light remained unblinking, Enjolras’s body perfectly still, as if a petrified statue. Some of his blonde curls fell into his eyes, hiding his face, but he made no move to brush them. He sat like that for a moment before lifting his head, looking straight at Marius again.

Everyone grew silent and still, as if the world had frozen. Marius seemed determined to get to the bottom of this, and Combeferre stood back, looking between the two of them evenly but not saying a word. Grantaire was still on the floor, his expression unreadable, and Jehan and Joly were looking about at everyone, as if looking for an explanation written on somebody’s face.

Enjolras’s expression was one of determination, and it matched Marius’s completely. “Ask me more,” he ground out, sounding fierce. “I don’t do things by halves.”

“No, you don’t,” Marius agreed, but his gaze looked distant, as if he was seeing something everybody else wasn’t. He crossed his arms, standing a bit straighter. “Is he in this room?”

Enjolras’s eyes grew a bit wide, but then his countenance faded into something more resigned. “Yes,” he replied, and again, the light was unblinking.

Marius moved, then, stepping forward and leaning low to Enjolras’s ear, resting his hand on one of Enjolras’s shoulders and whispering as quietly as he could. “Do you want me to keep asking you? You don’t have to do this. It was wrong of me to put you in this position anyway.”

Enjolras’s smile was slight and full of pain. “I’ve wanted to say for a while,” he whispered back, “but I’ve never had the chance, or known how. Maybe this will help me out.”

Marius laughed a little, then stood up straight, looking at Enjolras’s face with a small smile. “It isn’t me, is it?”

“No, it isn’t you,” Enjolras replied, his focus placed entirely on Marius as he smiled slightly in return.

“Is it Combeferre?” Marius asked, pointing vaguely to the man in question.

“No, it isn’t,” Enjolras replied, smiling a bit more.

“Is it Courfeyrac?” Enjolras shook his head. “Joly?” Another shake. Still the lie detector revealed nothing. “Jehan?” Enjolras shook his head, then bit his lip, hanging his head and growing sheepish all at once. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with, but he had already burrowed himself this deep. He waited for the final question, already knowing what it was.

“Is it Grantaire?”

The room was deathly silent now, as if everyone had suddenly gone mute. Shaking a little, Enjolras shook his head, murmuring a small and nearly silent “no.” He jolted, then, and the light on the lie detector blinked twice.

Enjolras kept his head down, staring at the hand that was clenched into a fist in his lap. He could feel Combeferre’s hand sliding up his back and resting on his shoulder, a silent show of support and comfort that he made no move to shake off. His nerves were causing him to quiver slightly, and it felt like he was hollow and all his bones were jangling inside him. He looked up a little bit, daring to look at Grantaire from the corner of his eye.

Grantaire was still in the floor, but the bottle lay forgotten at his side, resting near his right hand. He was staring, wide-eyed and shocked, at Enjolras, his body immaculately still. Nobody said anything as the two simply looked at one another for a while. Eventually, Enjolras looked away, beginning to move his free hand to undo the cuff around his wrist, about to excuse himself with some business or other and leave—

“Don’t touch that.”

Enjolras looked up again, watching as Grantaire rose to his feet, pulling the bottle up with him as he stood. His face was stoic as he stalked closer, close enough that he was leaning over Enjolras where he sat in the chair. Enjolras raised his chin to look up at him, looking him evenly in the eye. Grantaire looked down at him again, skepticism and disbelief written across his face, and it looked as if he’d been personally betrayed. “You have a crush on me?”

“I’m not talking to you until you put the bottle down.”

Grantaire didn’t hesitate. The bottle was on the counter with a loud tap, and Grantaire’s eyes were back on Enjolras’s face immediately. “You have a crush on me?”

Enjolras’s face was drawn, his expression the same one he wore when he was fighting with Grantaire, when they were arguing about change and about having faith, and about how much good Les Amis could do in the world. “No,” he shot back, and nothing happened, and the light didn’t falter.

Grantaire didn’t move, and his expression didn’t change, but his voice did get lower. “It isn’t a crush, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Enjolras replied, and again, the light on the lie detector remained stagnant in its glow, just as Grantaire and Enjolras’s eyes remained stagnant on each other.

“What is it, then?” Grantaire asked. He leaned low, putting his hands on either side of Enjolras, looking him in the eye. “If it isn’t a crush, then what is it?”

Enjolras looked him in the eye, his brows pinching in the middle, his lips tilting slightly down at the edges. “Are you sure you want to know?” he asked, his voice slightly doubtful.

“I just don’t want you to be lying to me,” Grantaire replied, and a majority of the harsh coldness in his voice from before had melted away, leaving in its wake a tired kind of desperation that Enjolras could recognize; it was the last defense of a man who didn’t want his heart broken, who didn’t want to get his hopes up for no reason.

After a few moments of silence, Enjolras finally said it. “I love you,” he mumbled, and Grantaire’s eyes shot to the light, as if his whole life depended on it not blinking. A few seconds passed, and it didn’t. Grantaire’s eyes shot back to him just as quickly, and he swallowed drily, his breathing heavy. Enjolras looked back at him, the faintest hint of red on his cheeks. “May I take this off now?” Enjolras asked, gesturing to the cuff around his wrist.

Grantaire said nothing, but his hands moved, loosening the cuff from his wrist and pulling it away, setting it on the table. He kept Enjolras’s wrist in his hand as if he was clutching a lifeline, and Enjolras couldn’t help but smile as he stood, watching as Grantaire shuffled sheepishly back to make room for him to stand. Enjolras looked at him, staring at his eyes, letting out a little smile as he reached up and brushed a few strands of Grantaire’s hair away from his face. “You don’t have to keep holding on,” he whispered quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Grantaire laughed a little, and it was high and a bit frantic. “I wish we had left the cuff on for that,” he murmured, scared, and Enjolras leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, one that was simply a brush and nothing more, but Grantaire’s hand tightened around his wrist and he made a small noise from the back of his throat. Enjolras pulled away, smiling contentedly, gently prying Grantaire’s fingers from his wrist with his free hand. Once Grantaire had let go, he wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s waist, pulling him in gently until their bodies were flush together. He leaned into his neck and gave a little sigh, pressing a kiss to the skin there. He could feel Grantaire’s arms looping around him in an answering embrace, and he allowed himself to slacken a bit. Neither of them noticed the door closing behind their friends.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Enjolras murmured against his skin, feeling the subtle spike in Grantaire’s pulse under his lips. “I promise.”

Grantaire let out a breathy chuckle, and it was still laced with hysteria, but it was more subdued. His hands moved up and down Enjolras’s back, and he hummed lightly into Grantaire’s skin. “I’ve been in love with you for years, not even knowing if you even knew about it, not even beginning to dream that you’d look my way,” Grantaire murmured. “So forgive me if I’m having a hard time thinking this is real. Please.”

Enjolras let out a little laugh, his hands coming up to twirl in the tips of Grantaire’s hair. “I should have told you sooner, then.” There was a brief pause. “Years?” Enjolras asked after a moment, his voice lighter and softer than before.

He could feel Grantaire’s nod. “Feels like forever.”

Enjolras’s lips tightened into a thin line. “At the risk of sounding cheesy and sappy, I would like to ask you a question.” Grantaire let out a little noise of acquiescence into his hair. “Will you give me forever to convince you this is real?”

Grantaire pulled away, his hands still on Enjolras’s hips, his eyes wide and scanning Enjolras’s face incredulously. “I can’t believe you actually just said that.”

Enjolras’s face blanked for a moment, but his hands never left their place in Grantaire’s hair. “Actually… Neither can I.” His look grew very serious, then. “I **did** warn you it’d be cheesy.”

“And sappy, to boot,” Grantaire replied, but he was smiling so brightly that Enjolras was afraid he’d split his lip again, and so he put his hands on his cheeks, smiling back.

“Will you let me?” Enjolras asked quietly, looking into Grantaire’s eyes, as if seeking the answer that way.

Grantaire let out a little laugh and his fingers tightened on Enjolras’s hips. “Dumb question,” he replied, and this time, it was Grantaire who pulled him in, kissing him gently.

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Joshua Saunders's version of "The A Team" a lot while writing this. Also his version of "A Thousand Years." Music box songs are kind of their music for me.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Tell me if there's any mistakes or anything!
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr!](http://exacteyewriting.tumblr.com)


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